Free Powerful Magic by Karen Whiddon

he picked a spot on the opposite side of the fire.
               Though he tried, sleep eluded him that night.   The ground felt uneven and rocky, the smallest stone irritating his skin.   Though he'd slept on this same ground a hundred times, though he'd bedded down in worse places, he could not get comfortable.   Infuriating for a man, dangerous for a warrior.   And he knew it was all because of this irrational, burning desire for a woman he could not have.
               He had his gear packed and the war horse loaded before she woke.
               "Morning."   She muttered, stumbling outside with her eyes half closed and the ridiculously thin blanket wrapped around her instead of his warm cloak.   He wanted to chide her, but thought it more prudent to hold his silence.   If he kept things on a strictly impersonal level, it would be better off for both of them.
               When she returned, he kept his back turned, checking the supplies once final time.   With his white coat gleaming despite the shaggy winter coat, the war horse snorted, antsy, ready to go.   He knew how the animal felt.
               "What's the horse's name?"   Her soft voice came from right behind him, nearly making him jump.   He cursed under his breath. Until late, no one had been able to sneak up on him unawares. More proof that it was time to retire his sword.  
               "He has no name."   Kenric sounded more harsh than he intended; even his horse shifted sideways.   He glanced at her - a mistake, he knew instantly.   Though she'd finger combed her dark hair, her cat's eyes still looked heavy with sleep.   She blew a short gust of air from her lips, drawing his attention to her mouth.    Her lush, full, kissable mouth.   Heat flashed through him, making him remember the raw, sensual taste of her.      
               "No name?"   She laughed, reaching out one slender hand to touch the animal's thick neck.   "Did you just get him?"
               Setting his jaw, Kenric tore his gaze away.   "I've had him for years."   Since the day he'd found his family slaughtered, most dead, his father dying in the bloody, deserted keep, and the war horse starving in his stall.
               She fell silent, perhaps astounded by the fact that this animal that he so obviously valued had no name.   When she spoke again,it was to ask a question that he should have anticipated.
               "Why haven't you named him?"
               Because he wasn't sure he could articulate the reason and because the less she knew of him and his life the better, he chose not to answer.  
               "The sun rises."   He told her instead, pointing to the
    gradually lightening cave entrance.   "It is time we ride."
               "Do I have duties?"
               Kenric blinked, wondering what she meant, knowing she had not meant anything like the erotic thoughts that immediately came to mind.   "Duties?"
               "Yes,"   Megan drawled, her tone the exaggerated drawl all women used when they believed they spoke with limitless patience for the slowness of men.   "What, exactly, does a squire do?"
               Despite himself, he had to smile.   "A squire serves a
    knight.   Takes care of his armor and other things.   Usually, you would have your own horse, though a palfrey, not a beast of war."
               She bit her lip, looking small and defenseless and less like a squire than anyone he'd ever seen.   Protectiveness welled up in him, horrifying him.   This desire to protect was what he sought to escape.   Especially since he knew he would ultimately fail, just as he'd failed to save his family.
               Her tentative touch on his arm brought him out of his reverie.   "Are you all right?"
               "Fine."   With a brusque nod he clasped her around the waist, lifting